


making up for lost time, taking flight

by iliveinfantasies



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff Event [2]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Other, why am i incapable of writing fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:34:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies
Summary: "Pippa, whose face was shining with something Hecate had seen before, but never quite been able to place; bold and glowing, fluttering and flickering with that same fire she’d seen on Pippa’s cheeks; shimmering over the surface of her skin, all those years ago.Hecate had, finally, come to recognize that light for what it was."------"Lights" prompt for The Worst Witch Fluff A Thon. Hicsqueak.





	making up for lost time, taking flight

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this isn't fluffy enough, though I'm at least following the rule of it has to end with a happy ending, which is how I like my fic anyway. So hopefully it counts.
> 
> It's also not super wintery, but it does, at least, come up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my fics! Hoping to post some standalones, too, though I'm new to this fandom so still getting my bearings a little.
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife!

Hecate remembered, still, what Pippa looked like on that day.

She’d never forget, not ever, the darkness of Pippa’s eyes, once they saw Hecate for what she truly was.

When they realized that Hecate wasn’t coming.

Like all the light had been snuffed out of her, all at once. 

Because Hecate, despite it being what she knew to be a truly terrible idea, a truly painful and torturous thing, had stayed to see. Stayed to watch Pippa learn, for the last time, hand clinging tightly to her broomstick, hair sticking limply to her cheeks with the damp, that Hecate was well and truly gone.

It wasn’t until years later, at some conference in some grand convention center--that Hecate saw the spark reignite, again, for the first time since she had left.

Pippa was there, of course. Not the main speaker, but still speaking, rather animatedly and to anyone who would listen, about her school--her grand schemes and brand new ideas, young and not quite fully formed, rather like Pippa herself. But they  _ were  _ ideas; not just new, but  _ wild, _ and out there, and sparking like firelight in Pippa’s voice, her eyes, her teeth-bearing grin at anyone who said that, in no uncertain circumstances, would a school like that  _ ever  _ be formed. 

Hecate had been with Broomhead, then, still; deep in the clutches of bony fingers, wrapped in slivers of white-hot magic that hurt far, far too much to fathom trying to leave. And regardless of any kind of light, even Pippa’s, her world had been dark, and bleak, and full of a rough, bitter blackness.

And of course, Hecate wasn’t so stupid as to think the light hadn’t sparked back up before then; of course, she reasoned, Pippa had plenty of other people, plenty of other---plenty of  _ friends, _ to help her light shine, brightly. Even brighter than before, Hecate was certain. Far brighter without her. In fact, the second Pippa had locked eyes with her across the convention center floor--a mistake, Hecate knew, that she shouldn’t have let happen--Pippa’s eyes had widened in surprise, then flashed, dangerously, the light flickering into a soft ember.

It was another many years--many spells, many quick, rough grabs and overly-harsh touches-- before Hecate saw Pippa again. In person, at least, because Hecate did (though she’d admit it to no one) keep a rather close watch on all of Pippa’s goings-on with her school.

Only her school. She cared not to think too much about Pippa’s life beyond that; didn’t quite think that, even after all of this time, she could take it.

Then, another many more years before they spoke to each other again, for the first time since Hecate had left; exchanging darting words and crossing statements neither of them quite knew how to say out loud, tucked away in that storage room, after the Spelling Bee.

Now, though.

Now, Pippa was pressed against her by the windows in the cold, stinging air of the corridor at Cackle’s. Helping them decorate for holidays, stringing up strands of lights with shimmering fingers, minute flicks of their wrists. Tiny fires in tiny globes of glass; actual starlight, caught and spun and maneuvered into small, shimmering orbs. Glittering and glowing, fluttering over the surfaces of the stones, glancing off the icy clumps of snow on the trees.

But not as bright as Pippa’s.

Pippa, whose face was shining with something Hecate had seen before, but never quite been able to place; bold and glowing, fluttering and flickering with that same fire she’d seen on Pippa’s cheeks; shimmering over the surface of her skin, all those years ago.

Hecate had, finally, come to recognize that light for what it was.

Radiating with warmth and feeling and love and love and love. 


End file.
